


Cold Turkey

by Jake_the_TransGuy_FTM



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dom John Watson, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:58:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jake_the_TransGuy_FTM/pseuds/Jake_the_TransGuy_FTM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll think of a witty summary later e.e<br/>Basically, John finds Sherlock at a bar, a little drunk, and with a pretty honey on his arm.John blames it on the drink and his insecurities is what makes him convince Sherlock that he doesn't need the alcohol for a good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock may have been a little bit drunk. Not enough for the floor to fall from under him, but just enough to feel the alcohol in his blood put heat in his face and around the collar. He liked this, getting a bit smashed, but not enough to forget how the hell he got home. Just enough to forget that John wasn't going to come around this time-- not tonight, anyway. It was something Sherlock could shrug off easily... when he was a little bit drunk.

He leaned back, only to remember that there wasn't a back to his seat and he managed to catch himself gracelessly. He decided maybe it wasn't such a good time to leave the bar just yet, and when his mug was refilled with a grin and a thumb towards a pretty lady to the left, Sherlock couldn't just up and go. It would've been rude. So he stayed. And he drank.

The alcohol burned in his mouth and it did going down his throat and automatically Sherlock knew it wasn't the beer he had ordered at first. No, this was the stronger stuff, tasteless enough to want to push away, but strong enough to bring a lightweight down before they could even see the bottom of the mug. He snorted, trying not to lean forward in his seat like a dead-beat drunk. It would've been different if Joey was with him...

Not drunk enough.

He drowned the rest of the glass and pushed away the mug before the bartender could grab it and refill it after a quick look at the same lady to the left. He wasn't having a woman buy his drinks for him, as much as the free drinks from a good number of ladies boosted his ego. At least, not tonight. Sherlock thought, maybe it was a good time to visit a different bar.

Before he could leave, he noticed the lady from the left come up to him and like always, Sherlock couldn't help taking a look.

Pretty, very pretty. The type that had the confidence to come to him and the confidence Sherlock was attracted to. She definitely would've been a girl he'd accept advances from and flirt back shamelessly into his bed. But not any more. She sidled up next to him, propping her large breasts onto her arm as she leaned against the bar, giving Sherlock a generous view of her cleavage. He smiled with hooded eyes.

"Thanks for the drink."

"It's no problem." She replied. She tilted her head, exposing the long, attractive line of her neck. "You're Sherlock Holmes. I know your face anywhere."

Sherlock gave a small laugh and a nod. A fan, of course. "Yeah... again, thanks for the drink." He made to get up, but she was a confident one. A hand on the table telling him to stay and Sherlock raised an eyebrow and sat, wondering where she'll take this. The teasing little smile appeared on his lips and he nodded, taking a quick moment to accept that drink.

She didn't sit and Sherlock may have scoffed a bit into his full glass when he noticed her eyes drop down the length of his body then back up. He leaned towards her and he blamed it on the alcohol when he got close enough to smell the clean scent in her hair, "I haven't seen a pretty thing like you in a long time, but maybe its not a good idea to be trying this all on me." He got a breathy chuckle and a white smile, the woman pressing forward and landing a hand on his thin arm. He almost pulled away-- but not this time.

"You're a lot more handsome in person. Is there a lady-friend I should be worried about?"

"No. But I'd watch out for my boyfriend." She raised an eyebrow, disbelief written across her face. Sherlock was drunk enough to elaborate, but words caught in his throat when he recognized a man that walked through the dark doorway. "I'd go, if I were you." He said slowly, eyes following the slow and purposeful movement of the older man coming his way. He knew that look, Sherlock knew what came next after that expression came over John's face and he couldn't wait.

"Hey, John." Sherlock watched her crane her neck back, back, and up past the bulging crossed arms and into the stormy face of John. She backed up immediately, knowing a jealous man when she saw one.

"You shouldn't touch what doesn't belong to you."

She backed up a few feet, hands in front of her to be less of a threat because even Sherlock was sure John would've done something if she laid another finger on him. In his drunk state, Sherlock watched with half amusement, half what-the-fuck before John slotted himself between his spread legs and planted his lips roughly against his own, not caring who saw. All teeth and tongue and possession, John was set on proving to the whole bar who Sherlock belonged to.

Sherlock tore his mouth away with a gasp, wiping at his wet lips with the back of his sleeve. He heard John growl, saw those usually warm green eyes {or blue? What the fuck color are his eyes!!??} narrow at him, and instinctively Sherlock pressed himself forward, spread his legs wider, pulling John against his body. He didn't mean to object, and slowly John smirked. Large hands crawled down his body, so different than what had been on him so simply before, making his nerves spring to life.

That girl had pretty much been staring, opened mouth and surprised at the two, and John threw a quick, "Fuck off." over his shoulder. He didn't even turn around to see if she'd left, but Sherlock saw. Saw her tear her eyes away with a blush quickly encompassing her face and run out the bar. Sherlock chuckled. He'd of, too, and probably found a place to get off.

"Of all the places to find you..." John practically growled in his ear and Sherlock would probably deny to this day the weak sound that came out of his mouth as the older man nipped harshly at the soft lobe. He tried to put some space between themselves, but John would not have it, large hand going to the curve of his back and pulling him in-- so tightly against each other Sherlock feared their body's would mold permanently together by the crotch.

That actually made him laugh.

"This isn't funny..." Right. Right, John. Sherlock swallowed thickly, hoping if he got the taste of alcohol out of his mouth he wouldn't be so drunk.

"What are you doing here?"

"Finding you. Stopping you from betraying me."

Sherlock wanted to laugh again because when had it been a problem? John knew Sherlock wouldn't, that he couldn't, that he feared losing John to Mary more than anything. He wanted to tell John exactly that, but instead, what came out of his mouth was, "Doesn't your wife keep you tonight?"

Not exactly the best thing to say.

\------------------  
He wasn't picking up his phone. John had probably called Sherlock a hundred times as he drove around London, just keeping within fifteen miles of the speed limit. The younger man was not home and he definitely wasn't with Lestrade, and if Sherlock had been with Molly, John was sure to find out within two seconds through Twitter. Sherlocwas alone-- and if he was not home, he was out.

Of course, Sherlock would be. He always went there when John wasn't around to hound him back into the bedroom for the night. Their bedroom. Sherlock doesn't want to call it anything else and sometimes John wished he didn't because he was sure that was the reason the younger man hated staying in it alone sometimes. So he goes out. Most times, if John calls and Sherlock picks up, he went out gambling. It's when the younger man didn't pick up John knew he was out doing something else.

It wasn't that Sherlock slept around, though before John and him got together, Sherlock sort of did. The curly haired man felt he always had something to prove, even to his partners, thinking he could keep their attention if he just gave in, if he gave chase. He wasn't a slut, but sleeping on the first date wasn't new to Sherlock. John knew this well.

It didn't help that John was the first and only man Sherlock had ever slept with. It should, but it didn't. Before John, Sherlock may have been a flirt, but he never brought home or went back with another man. John was different and that was not comforting. Not if Sherlock's eyes could easily stray to a woman. And really, John wouldn't have to worry-- It was either Sherlock or his wife, and as the months go by it seemed to be more Sherlock, than the woman he had married.

He pushed his hair back in frustration as he parked into the fifth hotel casino that night. There had to be at least four bars in this joint, two of which were actual clubs, but Sherlock only visited one. He tried the phone one more time, fist around the steering wheel tightening as each ring went unnoticed and cursed under his breath when yet again, his call was ignored.

If he was with someone...

He stepped into the nightclub, at first very annoyed by the loud bass that seemed to take direction of the beat of his heart. Sherlock wouldn't be on the dance floor, not tonight anyway, not without him. The bar. Only the bar. His eyes did a quick sweep and catching Sherlock with that woman sketched the scowl onto his handsome face. Each step he took felt as if he shook the damn place, his fingers stinging with jealousy clenched tightly against his palms.

She left easy enough, took her a while when she saw Sherlock wrapped around his body willingly, but she was gone with another silent threat. Feeling Sherlock surrender to him, his muscles uncoiling under his shaking fingers was almost enough to cool the boiling in his blood. But like always, a drunk Sherlock wanted the upper hand.

"We're going home."

"I didn't mean it. John-- John, wait."

John firmed his lips, looking back to watch Sherlock knock back that drink. He could see the relief in his drunk slack face before near apprehensive eyes stared back up at him.

"I needed that."

John didn't mean to scare him so much.

He drove them home and Sherlock had passed out in the passengers seat of his car, snoring softly. The younger man's keys were in John's pocket, safe-- ready to use tomorrow when they pick up his car, but for tonight the car will be fine in its VIP parking. Sherlock was going to throw a fit tomorrow, but the younger man had some making up to do.

John dragged Sherlock's heavy weight back into his house, too. He was awake when he did, but the alcohol hit the the man hard, stumbling in the cold night air as he took him to his front door to unlock.

"Mm... wait. Wait, I don't want bed... The kitchen-- John." Sherlock mumbled incoherently and John just shook his head, helping the man upstairs and undressing him once they made it inside their bedroom. "Stay... stay."

"I'm not leaving."

That seemed to work and Sherlock passed out on his side even before John could get out of his pants, sighing as the younger man curled around him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gettin into the kinky shit.

{GETTIN' INTO SOME KINKY SHIT!}

What is that throbbing... was the first thing that came to Sherlock's mind as he sat up, rubbing his forehead like he was going to rub off the little monster trying to gnaw into his brain. He only thanked whatever god to remember to keep his steel shutters closed, but he groaned regardless as he tried to keep the bile down.

He remembered how he got home, but John wasn't next to him. Sherlock could only regret it-- the one night John was there to stay with him and he just had to be wasted. The regret made his stomach turn, making him struggle to get out of bed and into the bathroom and dry heaving into the toilet. John wasn't there anymore. Probably thinks I'm pathetic.He gave himself a second to sob.

When he picked himself off the floor, he took the time to shower. He could smell himself and it made him sick. The alcohol left a lasting stench on his skin, made it feel tight and used. Sherlock hated the feeling and he scrubbed himself almost raw, concentrating on clean instead of John.

John, who probably thought he was pathetic. John, who came to pick up his sorry carcass and leave it alone in the large bed to rot in his stink. He was just about done feeling sorry for himself when he opened the shower door and saw a glass of water next to some aspirin.

And his collar...

Sherlock wondered if he should be happy John waited for him to sober up, or feel scared that he was going to be sober when they played. Sherlock wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to give in on his own, and- and-

He groaned and placed his head in his hands. He blinked at the aspirin, willing it to come to him, but ultimately reached out for it, swallowing the small pill with a little difficulty. He needed the comfort even though it was sure to come in much later. His head still throbbed and his anxiety wasn't helping. Still, he shouldn't leave John waiting. He grabbed the collar next, wrapping it around his neck before drying his body. He didn't even bother with the clothes.

Get to John's room. That what the collar always meant and Sherlock trudged his way up, his feet dragging along the floor. They barely played, and though it made his blood run cold and hot at the same time, it was all Shane's idea that they ran their relationship this way. It was only John who thought it shouldn't be the main focus of it, only 'playing' when it was desperately needed. John decided when, and it always seemed to be when he had issues with keeping Sherlock in line.

Then again, wasn't that the point?

The door opened smoothly, revealing the dimly lit room, and Sherlock wondered if he should get on his knees now or once he's by John's side. The world was spinning, he didn't think he was getting enough oxygen into his lungs and for a moment he feared he might just pass out even before anything started-- then what would the man waiting in his chair think of him. He took a step and when dark brown eyes darted over to him and full, pink lips remained closed and tightened into a line he knew he was doing the right thing to get there as quick as possible and walk.

The man dropped his eyes as he got nearer, self-conscious in his nudity. He stood there awkwardly before getting on his knees by John's side. He didn't know what to do.

"Sherlock."

He couldn't help but jump and the sigh he heard from John made him feel awful. "I'm sorry." sped through his lips, but he was supposed to be quiet. He kept his eyes trained to John's knees, keeping his eyes down suddenly a lot easier.

"Mate, stop. You're freaking me out."

No. No. Sherlock shivered and let his head drop. John couldn't stop the game now. Sherlock could do this. He can. His hands fisted over his naked thighs and his defeated shoulders squared a tiny bit. It seemed to be enough because John stood, grabbing him roughly by the hair to look into his eyes. The older man was so close he could smell him, could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Why are we here?"

"I... I made you look for me."

John sneered. Every bit of honest emotion he could muster made it into his eyes and put a crack in his heart. The older man's grip loosened and Sherlock whined quietly, pushing into his touch.

"I didn't answer your calls."

"Don't. Sherlock."

Don't make me force it out of you. Sherlock licked his dry lips and clenched his eyes tightly shut, desperately searching his brain to say something else. "I passed out on you last night."

"Wrong." John practically threw Sherlock away in frustration. The collared man held back a yell, a habitual retort, but held his tongue. Instead, he righted himself as he watched John's feet move back and legs spread as he took his seat.

John chuckled, the sound grating and obviously forced. "It's always harder for you to talk to me when you're sober." Sherlock managed to take a peak, see him hide his blue/green eyes in his hand before meeting his own, dropping those blue orbs before they locked. "This isn't a game..."

"I know."

"Then why are you-- It's like you're trying to piss me off."

And maybe he was. Sherlock wasn't so sure. He risked another look up and this time their eyes did lock. He couldn't tear his own away and for a moment he thought John was reading every single thought he shoved to the back of him mind, all the selfish desires he either forgot or ignored, pulling them out one by one. The gaze they held was almost painful. He had to say something.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I went out drinking without you. I was drinking and I was- I let-" Sherlock was suddenly overwhelmed, his breath coming in short gasps as his thoughts warred with each other. Sorry for what? For that girl? For himself? For his actions? Sherlock remembered wanting to leave before she came over but he had stayed, thinking he could stand to give a fan some of his time- or something like that. He wasn't going to go back with her. He wasn't-

Sherlock's train of thought came to a stop when John chuckled mirthlessly, again hiding his eyes in his hand. Thumb and finger worked into his temples before he let go and Sherlock couldn't help beating himself up for causing the older man stress. If anything, John's insecurities were just as great as his own and it didn't help that Sherlock had hundreds of pretty women who want a piece of him. He shouldn't of carelessly flirted back-- John there, or not.

The man flinched when John said it for him, "Leading that girl on. You lead that girl on and you're mine, Sherlock. I shouldn't have to prove it to anyone." He sighed then and Sherlock was sure he heard the defeat. The strong body crumbled and just this once, the other was able to see the result of his actions. "Man, I think we should just end it now. This was a bad idea. We're wasting our time."

Just like that. Sherlock felt his heart drop and his eyes hardened. His mouth felt dry and his teeth gritted. He didn't know if he should feel angry, or distressed... John didn't mean it. "What do you mean? John, don't play with me like that." he said at first, then the next words came out a little more harshly, "You liar."

"Look, I'm not playing." John opened his hands, arms spread open to his sides as he stood. Sherlock looked too small there on the floor. "If you don't want me, I get it. You with me isn't exactly the most stable relationship."

"Shut up."

"Sherlock-"

The slightly taller man shook his head, the only other movement in his rigid form was his fists balling up over his thighs. "I want you." That was probably the most honest statement from the string of lies and excuses he could come up with. Sherlock wasn't ready to let go, not so soon. He stood, surprising the other man back into his seat. Grabbing the stubbled jaw in both hands, he muttered again, "I want you."

"Prove it." Were the hissed words and narrowed blue/green eyes glared back up at him. Angered disbelief took up most of that handsome face and Sherlock wondered who the hell was supposed to be hurting here.

"What the fuck you mean, prove it?"

John just repeated the phrase again, and the menacing curl of his lip urged Sherlock to lunge forward to take them. It was almost bruising the way he controlled the kiss, not giving John the time to take over and ignoring every little trick that usually got his own mouth falling slack to accept John's tongue curling possessively in his mouth. No, this one was his, and Sherlock wasn't ready to give up.

He felt long fingers curl around his hips to pull him in, but the younger man denied it, didn't care that he had to fold around John just so they could share this moment. He had John tilting his head back, caging him back against the chair, and immediately the other tensed. He pulled back before the blonde could claw his hands into his hips or throw him against the wall on the other side of the room.

"Well?"

John wiped the back of his hand against his lips and that felt like a slap to the face if anything else. "Not gonna cut it." He stood to his full height and had the pleasure of watching Sherlock stumble back. He just had to put both hands on Sherlock's wide shoulders and he was back kneeling on the floor before him. "How badly do you want this?"

"As badly as you do." Sherlock looked up as he said this and almost smiled when John nodded. Instead, he gasped as John grabbed him by the hair again to take control of a kiss that took his breath away.

John practically dragged him over to the chair and when the older man sat, was pulled in between his legs. Sherlock felt cornered and he struggled for a bit, pushing at whatever he could, but a harsh bite to his lower lip was warning enough. He opened his mouth and instantly it was plundered. Sherlock just managed to catch that tongue before those lips completely pulled away, shiny with spit and swollen and Sherlock wondered how his own must look. The hands clawing into denim clad thighs became soft and smoothed over John's hips, unconsciously going to the hardness in between. He was surprised when his hands were slapped away.

"Stop that." John grumbled and hooked his fingers into the collar. He lifted a bit and Sherlock's body followed, slim fingers wrapping around his wrist as Sherlock strained to stay in position while following what John directed. It pulled his torso taut, sinewy muscles lengthening cat-like and chest arched towards John to pull the strain off his neck. John dragged his eyes down the displayed body to the hard cock in a nest of clean dark curls and chuckled. "Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if you do this just to piss me off."

Sherlock laughed quietly as well, "Never." And squirmed on his knees self-consciously. He's probably been in this position for half of their affair, but most times it was a night after some heavy partying. He whined. "Stop staring."

John sneered and it got the reaction he wanted, "Are you telling me what to do?" Sherlock just dropped his gaze and shook his head. "Good. You never seem to mind before."

"Yeah, well." John was distracted by the flash of pink over his lips, but he still caught the rest of what Sherlock was saying, "Just gimme a damn bottle and we're set." Sherlock looked up at John under his lashes but the scowl on John's face was definitely not what he was expecting. He dropped them again an chewed into his lip nervously. "No drinking..."

John shook his head. "No. And I'm expecting not ever again." He smirked when Sherlock choked and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm getting tired of having these little visits to my room and you drinking seems to be the main source to all our problems."

"Tough." Sherlock sneered and shimmied his way back into a more comfortable kneeling position. John seemed to get the point and lessened his hold, "I thought it was the flirting. So I'll just-"

John snorted, "Right. Without the alcohol you're too much of a dork to even know where to start when it comes to flirting." He saw John's eyes narrow reproachfully and confidently, John said, "I'll just have to convince you to stop."

That little playful smirk appeared on Sherlock's lips and John wondered where Sherlock thought this was going. John scowled and pulled sharply, the leather of the collar biting into Sherlock's neck and he was sure he was not imagining the flush that appeared on Sherlock's cheeks as he dropped his eyes. The only confusion that showed on John's face was the furrow of his brow. The younger man was looking forward to this. John could only think of ways so that Sherlock wouldn't.

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you."

Sherlock scoffed slightly, "Not in the least bit, Mate."

John sighed and rolled his eyes upward before lunging, taking the man down onto his back. They scuffled for a bit, Sherlock actually hooking a fist towards John's jaw and as luck would have it, only scraped his fist along John's bone. He used that momentum to push Sherlock onto his front, straddling the other man's back as he pulled on the collar. "Stand down."

"Fuck no." Sherlock wheezed and scratched at the collar as he struggled to breathe. John wasn't letting up and the older man could see the the way Sherlock's face discoloured as he lost circulation to his head.

"Stand down." John pressed again and Sherlock shook his head frantically, both hands now desperate to put enough space to clear his airways. John narrowed his eyes, pulling back, back and then dragging Sherlock over him. He bit back a groan as Shelrock squirmed in his lap and he reached down, grasping the still hard cock in hand threateningly. "Fucking yield, Sherlock!"

He heard a quiet whine used with just that last bit of air Sherlock had and let go. Immediately the other gulped for air, light-headedness making his eyes go wide in confusion. John brought those strong arms down from around Sherlock's neck then shoved the gasping man onto the floor. John panted, eyes dark as he raked his eyes over the helpless form. "You're going to listen to me, and I'm going to remind you why that's a good idea."

Sherlock coughed, his voice rough as he glared at John over his shoulder, "I'm not a fucking dog."

John shook his head, remembering the heat he had just held in his hand and gave Sherlock a crooked, understanding smile, "No. But you've been asking for this and we're gonna do it your way." He stood and cracked the kinks in his shoulders before crossing his arms, "Maybe after this we could stop this nonsense in my room." Before Sherlock could open his mouth he turned his back and said, "Without the drink."

A low, frustrated growl emanated from the floor and a quick, "Stay." was enough to stop all sounds of movement as Sherlock went to stand. "Good boy." John got a grumble for that.

The older man pulled out a black gym bag from behind the high back chair, grinning mischievously as he took a seat. He chuckled at the annoyed look Sherlock gave him. This was the other man's chair, no matter what they did in here, giving it up always riled him up. John made sure to look as comfortable and in place as he could in it before setting the bag down where it was easily accessible. "I brought provisions. Since you'd rather be beaten out of a habit and rewarded when you do things right, I've got things to use on you based on whether you please me or not."

The older man glowered, "I'm not a fucking dog, Watson."

"Nope. But I trained my dog when I was little and he was perfectly obedient." The dark expression only deepened and John had the gall to laugh. "Hey, I'm not going to command you to bark."

"Yet."

John snorted and patted his lap. It took a while, but Sherlock got the hint and crawled to John's side, realizing what he did too late and planting his forehead on the other's knee with a groan. When they get out of this, Sherlock was going to lock John in a morgue, this was so stupid. "Good boy." John said and petted his head.

Sherlock resisted the urge to tell John to go fuck himself. That just wouldn't do when he had his own aching dick between his legs. Instead he looked up at John with every bit of defiance he had. It really wasn't that much.

He threaded his fingers through thick, brown hair pulling Sherlock closer to his crotch. The other man followed and watching Sherlock act submissively made his blood pump harder in his veins. "Only your mouth." John murmured, wanting to make this hard for this man, and like expected a humiliated flush appeared on Sherlock's cheeks as he planted his hands on either side of John's hips and brought his head down to nose his shirt out of the way. "What, no come back?" John breathed.

Sherlock's eyes darted over to the bag, grunting a quiet "No". He almost brought his hands to the front of John's jeans but stopped himself quickly, instead biting and pulling, the button, popping it from its hole easy enough. The clumsy licking as he tried to pull the zipper made his cheeks burn, knowing he had John's full attention.

It wasn't getting any easier after pulling the fly down. John was sitting and the sharp tugs from the right or left side wasn't exactly pulling his jeans down his hips. He must look ridiculous trying to pull John's pants down with his mouth and looking up, he wished he hadn't. Not when John looked so amused there all trying to hide his smile in his hand. Sherlock backed up with a frown. "Stop being a dick."

Sherlock could tell John's smile widened, his eyes crinkling cutely in the sides. When he removed his hand from his mouth, that smile was a lot smaller then, but the aroused flush of his cheeks were more noticeable. At least his struggle got some sort of reaction from the other man. "Are you sassin' me?" John asked as he moved a little in his seat and Sherlock pursed his lips, unsure how to reply. Lying would get him a kick in the ass, he was sure.

"I- uh. I just want to get to business, John, stop messin' around." Sherlock grumbled up at him. He kept his hands close to his chest, unconsciously playing with his fingers, hoping this would look like he was willing to take whatever action John wanted when he asked. Instead, John just laughed.

"I could mess around if I want to. Isn't that the point?" He leaned forward, hands scratching deep red marks into his back. Sherlock bit back a groan then, but he couldn't help arching his body towards the older man, "You're just suppose to mindlessly take it. I thought that is what you want?"

"Yeah but--"

"Don't worry, I'll help." John cut in and nodded towards the bag, "Reach in there and grab the unopened box. Don't peak!" He laughed when Sherlock grumbled and nearly tore the bag trying to open it. When he reached in, John couldn't beat down his grin as surprise, and worry, appeared on the younger man's face. "Only if you're real bad, Sherlock."

"What're you gonna do with those?"

"It doesn't matter. Just bring the box to me." John patted his lap again, his legs spread wide in open confidence.

Sherlock stumbled a little as he made his way to John. He didn't have his hands as he carried a medium sized box in his palms. He wouldn't look at John and chewed into his upper lip as he took his place back between John's legs on the floor. John smiled and Sherlock blushed at the little mercy of the younger male pulling both pants and boxers down his hips, giving him the sight of his cock, swollen and wet with precum.

John opened it like that, not at all effected by using the other's hands like a table. Sherlock looked so awkward, not sure what to do but sit there and let the box rest upon his palms. John took note of dark lashes over pink cheeks as Shane peered inside, but he couldn't see anything with the object hidden underneath the satiny cloth. "What is it?" He asked and John tsked.

"Impatient."

Sherlock pursed his lips and his cheeks coloured. John had to drag his eyes away in order to pull the toy out from under it. He held it up, ring side open for Sherlock to see through and Sherlock blinked once at it before shaking his head frantically.

"No. John, no. I won't last..." he said and dropped the box on to the floor. Both hands faced John as if to push him away, "You're going to put that on me and then you're going to tell me to wait. I know it."

John rolled his eyes and grabbed Sherlock's wrists, bringing him to stand in front of him. He carefully slid the ring around the top of Sherlock's cock, the little vibrator on the side resting right under the crown of the head. "Yeah. But its a distraction. " He leaned back as Sherlock tried to control himself, that strong body visibly trembling. "Why are we doing this?"

"To- to make it up to you." Sherlock answered automatically.

"And what happens after?"

Sherlock swollowed thickly, "My punishment."

John smiled and nodded, bringing Sherlock closer. "And what happens if you cum too soon?"

"The game ends-- John, don't do this." Sherlock gasped as he felt fingertips flutter down his abdomen. He tried moving his hips away the further down they went. "I won't last, John. I'm not... I can't-" He wasn't drunk. There was no aid to numb his sensitive nerves.

John only shook his head and gave Sherlock a soft smile. He reached for the tiny switch on the bullet and flicked it on. Immediately the younger man tensed in his arms. John even saw the hard cock in front of him twitch at the sudden stimulation. "I'm going to prove to you that you don't need the drink." He dragged his eyes up, "Just my word, You got that?" He was satisfied when Sherlock nodded quickly down at him. He patted Sherlock's hip and the other man was back kneeling on the floor, slender fingers squeezing into his thighs. It put Sherlock's hands within reach of his own and sympathetically he threaded his hands with the other.

He didn't even have to say anything. Sherlock already started mouthing around his erection, probably thinking if he could get John off fast enough he'd still have some control to finish with the other. Usually John would have the other man beg for it, but not this time. "Suck." He growled and those reddened lips wrapped around his cock.

Immediately Sherlock started bobbing his head, and the addictive velvet heat of his mouth was slowly undoing John. The older man groaned loudly and grabbed Sherlock by the hair, pulling him back and almost laughed at the moan he tore from his throat. Sherlock's kinks were just so easy to manipulate. Wide blue eyes looked up at him, watery with pain-pleasure tears and a nod was all the warning he got before John started thrusting the length of his cock into Sherlock's mouth, forcing it down his throat. It took two quick thrusts before Sherlock gagged and pulled his mouth away, saliva still connecting his red lips to the red swollen head of John's cock. "I warned you."

Sherlock nodded and stopped himself from wiping his face. He coughed, his breath coming in as a sob before saying, "I know, I'll do better-" and John shoved his cock back in before he could finish his sentence.

Sherlock felt the back of his throat open instinctively, wet noises of John's dick hitting the back of his throat rang loudly to his ears. Sherlock couldn't make a noise, couldn't whine or whimper, or breathefearing the tenseness in his throat would force him to choke again. His fingers practically tore at John's pants when he desperately needed air and that was all the older man needed before pulling his cock from Sherlock's mouth, smearing spit and precum against Sherlock's cheek as he pulled him in closer. "Fuck, John." Sherlock breathed and his breath hitched as John slapped his dick soundly against his cheek and slid back in his mouth once again.

John wasn't thrusting any more and for once Sherlock felt he could finally relax, gasping around the other man's girth and he continued to suck. He concentrate solely on this, to run his tongue along his shaft and scrape his teeth around the top and only choked when he felt toes graze his hanging balls between his legs. He whimpered.

"Knew it." John rasped, the laugh he released breathless. Sherlock shook his head in embarrassed denial but the redness spreading from Sherlock's cheeks to his chest was telling. He ran his toes back against Sherlock's taint and then up over his cock, pushing the length down and Sherlock moaned as he rubbed the bottom of his foot over the top, while the head of the other's cock pushed against the black fluffed rug. "Beg." John commanded and bit back a groan when Sherlock whined around his dick.

He pushed Sherlock back and the younger man leaned on his hands, giving John access to his body. He lifted an eyebrow mockingly and let the cock slap against Sherlock's abdomen before continuing with its caress. He loved it when he got Sherlock like this, was surprised how quickly he actually got Sherlock here even without the alcohol. John's gaze was caught at the bowed head and panting breaths that showed in the way his chest moved up and down with each struggle to inhale and exhale, leading to his swollen cock mirroring the movement. The vibrating ring around the dewy head of Sherlock's cock forced clear liquid to leak from the tip and John spread the liquid down his shaft with his toes. "Knew you had a fetish."

"Do n-not." Sherlock grunted.

"Do you lie to me?"

"No-- John, please."

"Yeah... no. You can't cum yet."

John leaned back, stroking himself as he rubbed his foot over Sherlock's cock back and forth. Sherlock couldn't hold still, his hips moving the opposite direction of the strokes before he even dared to grab John's ankle. John scoffed lightly, letting Sherlock hold him still as he moved desperately against the only thing John was allowing him near.

"Let me cum, John." Sherlock begged.

"Nuh-uh." John answered.

"Please." Sherlock begged once more but John just laughed and pulled his foot away. This high pitch, needy whine left Sherlock's lips and he crawled forward a bit. Soft lips and nipping teeth moved along his thighs as the younger man continued, "Didn't I make you feel good? You said-"

John cut him off, "I know what I said." He pulled Sherlock's hair lightly, the other man's mouth falling open before willingly placing his lips along his shaft. "You're doing very good." Opalescent liquid welled at the tip just for Sherlock and Sherlock watched with clouded eyes. A soft moan left his lips and his hips twitched forward, a tightening of his muscles to hold off a release. "Still gettin' off on pleasuring me?" A nod. "Good." He let go and Sherlock went down on him again, his throat buldging with cock.

Didn't take too long after that. Sherlock was openly moaning around his dick, giving long, slow sucks on his length. John simply ran his hands through Sherlock's drying hair, breath hitching and soft moans leaving his mouth. He thought about pulling Sherlock away, letting his own seed coat the floor and not letting Sherlock have any of it just to piss him off. He pulled Sherlock's hair hard once and the younger man tightened his hands around his hips, pulling John into him as he takes him to the base. John almost laughed as Sherlock mewed at the first hit of cum going down his throat.

"Move." John husked and his cock slipped from Sherlock's lips. He winced as Sherlock wrapped a hand around his half-hard cock, desperate to keep him erect. "Gentle, Sherlock. Jesus." He grunted and those long fingers loosened around the sensitive girth, stroking ever so slowly to the tip. He watched with half lidded eyes. Occasionally his breath would catch as Sherlock's fingers ran over a sensitive spot. John was sure to be ready for another go soon.

John mused, "what should I do with you?" the sudden question made Sherlock look up at him and pause. Those eyes begged him, asking for a bit more of something. The meat between Sherlock's legs was swollen and heavy and John didn't think it would be good to ignore it much longer.

He pulled the younger man up to straddle his lap. Sherlock did so without fuss and instead held onto John's shoulders and left his body free for John to touch. He didn't break the eye contact he had with the other male, not even as he grabbed the desperate erection between them. John stroked slowly, his fingers only teasing the soft skin of Sherlock's balls before dragging up towards the vibrator that helped put Sherlock in such a state. "I'll let you cum now, is that understood?" He got a nod.

"Fuck, John... anything." Sherlock's hips swirled in his lap, his body completely flushed as he desperately sought and held his release. "What do you want? What... what do you need from me?"

"Always think there's a catch?" John chuckled and turned the little bullet off before taking the ring off the velvety flesh. He didn't touch Sherlock after that, letting the straining cock pull up towards him as if seeking his touch.

"Yes. No. John, touch me-"

John scoffed fondly and wrapped his hand back around Sherlock's length, squeezing tightly. He pressed his lips against Sherlock's when the younger man cried out, swallowing his shaky moan. The little noises Sherlock made shot straight to his own cock and John gently rolled his hips under Sherlock. The younger man bucked and pulled his mouth away with a pant.

"I can feel you... John..."

The older man hummed and started nibbling down Sherlock's neck. Sherlock still hasn't cum, won't do it until John said so, and the hot shaft in his hand leaked a steady stream of precum down his fist. Sherlock started grinding down on his cock, John riding it out as he slid between his cheeks. Sherlock's heavy weight felt amazing on his body, writhing so sensually, and so solid.

"John... John, can I? Please..." Sherlock begged. He was losing it now. He didn't think he was going to make it, but then John grunted, a quiet, husky "Yeah..." tickling him against his ear. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and his back arched as he spilled his seed between their bodies. "So good..." As his body uncoiled he fell forward and rested his head on John's shoulder.

"We're not done yet..."

It didn't seem to have mattered. Sherlock's body slowly became heavy with sleep. John rocked his hips, his breath hitching slightly at the wet slide between the two round cheeks and Sherlock moaned quietly, gently rolling back before stopping all together.

"Hey."

Still nothing. John shook his head and huffed in amusement. They weren't done. No where near it. But it had been an emotional roller coaster for the both of them. His fingers danced down the length of Sherlock's back and the other man's body arched towards him, still a bit awake. "Hey... why don't you lay on the floor?"

"We're not... you said..."

"No. We'll continue when you wake up."

Sherlock pulled back, eyes half lidded and sleepy, but his pupils still blown wide. He licked his red lips. "You promise?"

John smiled and nodded. Sherlock carefully stood from John's lap and his eyes immediately went to the hard cock John was still sporting. His hands itched to touch, but the older man tucked himself into his boxers and nodded towards the rug. "Sleep. I have a lot planned for you when you wake up."


	3. Chapter Three

Sherlock's body was laid before him on his back, hands handcuffed to either front leg of the high back chair, still bare, for John to study while he waited. The younger man had knocked out and even with John maneuvering his body around he still hasn't woken up. Gazing between his spread legs boarding Sherlock's slim torso, John rested his arm on his knee and watched his chest rise and fall with every breath.

Sherlock had released a sobbing breath every once in a while, but they only brought a small smile to John's lips. Even in sleep, guilt never really left the man. Barely anything did and that's why Sherlock came to him so much. John made them stop, but for now he let the other man suffer to his thoughts and dreams.

John dragged his eyes down, making a map on the expanse of skin of what he planned to do with the unmarked flesh. His jealousy had dwindled down into only a flicker of a fire, but he wasn't going to let Sherlock down easily. He was going to make sure the other man would never forget, one way or another.

Still resting his head in one hand, he grabbed the lit candle resting on the lamp table besides him and carefully rotated it to watch the melted wax roll around in its flame-made cup. It wasn't as much as the softer wax that still rested on the table, but it should be ready by the time he felt the need to use it.

John sat up, setting the candle down momentarily as he rolled up his sleeve. He grabbed the candle once again and shakily let a drop of wax fall on the inside of his wrist, hissing softly as it stung, before setting the candle back down quickly. John could feel the concentrated stinging fall into a dull throb. Sherlock was definitely going to feel the wax from this candle, and John wouldn't be surprised if it left a temporary mark. He scratched the dried wax off, liking the nice deep pink it left on his skin.

Sherlock twitched and John tensed as he squirmed, little sounds of discomfort reaching his ears. The younger man sighed after a moment and his body relaxed once more. He almost didn't want to bother the other man at all, but he didn't want to stay in the room much longer. He grabbed the other candle, a deep purple compared to the hot red, and made his way down Sherlock's body, careful not to step on him. He made space between the long legs and placed the candle next to himself before bending forward, hand between Sherlock's head and arm, and stole a kiss.

He moved gently at first, not wanting to scare Sherlock awake. The other sleepily followed along, soft moans and grunts escaping between their moving mouths as he coaxed the man to part his lips. He felt Sherlock gasp and slipping his eyes open, he saw dark lashes fluttering as he roused from his sleep. John groaned deeply, his free hand smoothing down his trembling side until he felt that instinctive arch towards his own body and Sherlock blinking up at him with lust-riddled eyes.

John gave a final nip to the kiss-swollen lips and pulled away, admiring the way Sherlock flushed from his cheeks and bringing in color to his chest. Sherlock's eyes were half lidded as he panted for breath and John could see the way his eyes darted confusedly around him. John smiled, laughing quietly as the younger man tried to sit up, hands turning into tight fists as he realized his immobility. He pulled again and the chaired followed loudly making Sherlock jump and glare back down at him. "John."

"Need you to sit still for me."

Sherlock huffed and the sleepy glare intensified, but a hard look from John had him bowing his head and turning his glare at his stomach. He noticed his own nudity, the blush darkening with embarrassment when he realized how vulnerable he was to the older man. He swallowed thickly, nervousness, excitement, and regrettably, the humiliation making his cock swell. His legs unconsciously pulled together, but John pushed his thighs apart and held them down until he stopped squirming. "Jesus! John, let me go!"

John shook his head, "Not this time." He petted Sherlock's hips when he laid there coiled tightly, but for the rise and fall of his chest. "I think I've kept your punishment too short. We're not done, like I promised, and we're gonna do something a little different."

Sherlock whined breathlessly, then bit his lip. John curled his fingers of one hand around his cock, the other daring up his chest to press, dancing over muscle. He shook his head, "What we.. what we did was enough!"

"Nope." John grinned, hand beating faster as Sherlock grew stiff in his hand. The rigid flesh betrayed Sherlock's words and in moments his cock stood erect, pointing towards Sherlock's abdomen. "Look at you..." John murmured quietly and slowed the even stroking, loving the desperate rocking of Sherlock's hips. He let the pads of his fingers ride over the wet tip, bringing precum down his length.

"J-John..." Sherlock whimpered as his muscles tensed. The red in his cheeks brightened as he tried to hide his face in his arm. His toes curled and his eyes fluttered shut tightly, gasps leaving his lips as John teased his cock. He caught in the corner of his eye John grabbing the candle and he squeezed his eyes tightly in fear. "No! John, don't-"

Heat. Sherlock writhed as he felt warm, almost too warm, liquid coat the tip of his cock. His eyes flew open, watching as dark purple dripped down his length in slow paths. The light sting intensified the throb in his cock, pulling from him a choked moan. "Stop, John- stop-" He mewled as more dripped along his shaft, dripping onto the sensitive skin of his balls making the muscles in his legs and abdomen tighten. When John finally set down the candle, Sherlock released a shaky breath, eyes watering and questioning. His dick now resting on his abdomen continued its dull throb and his body trembled with need.

"Who does this belong to?" John finally asked as he traced the fat line of wax that hardened along the underside of Sherlock's manhood.

"You..."

"That's right, and you're going to be feeling it this coming week. You're going to remember this time, Sherlock."

Sherlock took in another quivering breath as he held onto any of the defiance he had in him. John smirked as Sherlock looked up at him resistantly, fingers going to the smooth curve between his thigh and hip. "What else is mine?"

"Don't, John."

He hummed, eyes crawling down Sherlock's body once more as he sought out the tiny entrance behind Sherlock's balls. He massaged the soft mound inbetween, pushing until the man spread his legs and tilted his hips, giving John the sight of his twitching asshole just waiting for his fingers.

"Not the wax..."

"Didn't even cross my mind."

That seemed to confuse Sherlock and it only made John huff in amusement. "I've got somethin' else." He made a show of wetting his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. It wouldn't be enough for what he had in mind, but it was good for what he was going to get Sherlock ready for. He kissed Sherlock's shoulder and felt with his wet fingers for Sherlock's entrance, prodding at it gently before slipping one in. He heard Sherlock pull on the handcuffs, his body tensing in rejection, but slowly uncoiled as John slipped his finger in and out, opening him up.

Sherlock arched, chest pulling up as John reached in deep. The older man moved to his side, kissing down his neck as he squirmed on his finger. "Fuck John, please." He panted and felt John pull his finger away, petting two against his hole until he couldn't hold in the small sounds of his pleasure. Then they were gone.

Sherlock waited nervously, head falling onto the dark rug under him as John left from his side. He shut his eyes, trusting John and what he had planned. The older man knew his limits. Sherlock screwed his eyes tighter as he felt John's finger slide back in, joined by a second. The throbbing in his cock had stopped, but the meat felt heavy, abused. Sherlock bit his lip, eyes squinting open when John whispered for him to open his eyes only to be greeted with the sight of John circling the point of his tongue around a hardened nipple.

He gasped his name and John chuckled before sealing his lips around the little nub. Sherlock's chest pulled up, pressing into his mouth and John wrapped his arm around the cut waist, scratching his nails into the muscled back. He dragged moan after moan from the younger male with his mouth and fingers, distracting him thoroughly before sitting up and grabbing the candle once more.

Sherlock's body arched, arms stretched and torso pulled taught as John dripped candle wax on his sensitive nipples. Muscles rippled with each shuddering breath and the fingers within his ass pressed hard on the tiny bundle of nerves, pleasure shooting straight to his cock. "More..."

"Pain slut." John murmured, but carefully slowed down the drips. Those little buds would be swollen, an achingly beautiful red on his pale chest when he decides to peel them off. For now, John decided that the decoration was too pretty to take off just yet. He blew out the candle and put it away before grabbing the lubed toy next, turning it on while Sherlock panted for breath, watching it rotate in a tight circle. Pulling his fingers free from the clenching hole, he teased the tip against Sherlock's opening, entranced by the way Sherlock twitched away in surprise. "Hold still." He commanded and held Sherlock's hips down as he nudged the toy in.

He found it difficult to relax. Sherlock whined as the bulbous head of the toy moved within his ass, pressing into the walls that desperately held around it. It constantly stroked against his prostate, stimulating the bundle of nerves until Sherlock trembled once again, overwhelmed.

"Hold it." John said. He continued to fuck Sherlock with the toy, loosening him for his cock. Sherlock shook his head, and his legs pulled up as pleasure shot up and down his spine.

"Fuck, John, I can't..."

"You will."

John left from between Sherlock's legs to sit in the chair. He could just make out the base of the toy peaking from between Sherlock's legs, continuing its rotation. From his spot back in the chair, he watched the way the hard body tensed, flushed and wet with sweat. Blue eyes pierced into John's , begging him to let him go, to let him cum. The flesh of his cock already was a desperate red, stiff against his abdomen, demanding for attention. John licked his lips and finally touched the over sensitive bulge in his jeans, knowing Sherlock was watching impatiently.

"You want this?"

"You know I do, John... please..."

John chuckled darkly, "Well, you won't get it. Not until we set things straight." He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down, reaching into his boxers to pull his own swollen cock out, damp with precum. Sherlock's gaze darkened, and a quiet moan left from his parted lips. John worked the ache out of his erection before letting it go to continue with Sherlock's punishment.

"Now, what should I write on you..." John thought aloud as he grabbed the red candle. He took a quick peak to his wrist, seeing that it left a light browning of his skin. He licked his lips excitedly, "It's gonna burn, babe, but nothin' you can't handle." He kept it simple, spelling his name along Sherlock's abs.

The younger man gasped and he pulled on the handcuffs once more at the initial burn. He could feel it sear into his skin, but it was tolerable, and soon he let out his breaths in quiet whimpers. Tears prickled his eyes, and he tore his gaze downward to watch John brand his name into his stomach with the wax. "Its... it'll be upside down..." Sherlock told him.

"I know. Its for you to see, anyway. Every single time, Sherlock. You are mine." John said possessively. Taking in the broad expanse of skin, John couldn't help but feel that he had the right to own all this. It seemed the other man didn't mind giving in. "Who completes you, Sherlock?"

"You-" Sherlock's breath hitched. He couldn't take much more and he tried to squirm away. "I know! I know..." he pleaded, hoping John would end this torture quick. He watched with sobbing breaths as John finished half of his name, his chest rising and falling quickly as each sting went straight to his cock. The toy within him nearly went unnoticed, slipping out of him as his body continue to contract. He was going to cum. Whether John wanted him to or not-  
He heard John blow out the candle and the heavy wax hitting the table. He pried open his eyes he didn't realize he shut, catching John flinging his shirt off of his body. "Fuck me, fuck me..." Sherlock begged just as John slipped out of his pants and kneeled between his spread legs. The vibrator that had slipped nearly all the way out was pulled from his ass, leaving him empty and needy.

John basked in Sherlock's desperation, how the younger man ground against his hips as their lengths slid side by side. He reached for Sherlock's hungry hole, sliding his fingers in and hooked them into his prostate making Sherlock sob, "Only I can bring you here, Sherlock. Remember that."

"I'll remember.," he gasped and in seconds he held the bulk of John's cock within him. Sherlock's mouth fell slack, his back arching as John pulled him up to sit in his lap. Large hands engulfed his hips as John brought their bodies together, fucking into Sherlock with slow, hard strokes that got him keening in the back of his throat.

"Look so good like this..." John grunted as he bent his head down. He nibbled along the wax on Sherlock's nipples, taking them off with rough bites until he got the swollen peaks free. Sherlock gasped, trying to tell him stop, but the swollen, sensitive nubs were too tempting to ignore. "Tell me you love this..." John grumbled and brought his hand to Sherlock's cock, carefully pealing the wax from the tip.

Sherlock clenched around him, nodding frantically, and the embarrassment made his face color. He felt John pull out slowly until the head popped from the loosened pucker and Sherlock tried to sit up, a cry on his lips, "No, dont! I- I need it, give me-" John slid back in with a fond laugh, grinding against him and Sherlock tried to fuck himself, willing John to release within him.

"Won't admit it?" John breathed, watching the way Sherlock hopelessly rode his cock. "Its okay... I can tell." He chuckled again and Sherlock shamefully shook his head. He pressed in, rocking their hips together and holding Sherlock down against the rug, rutting into Sherlock roughly, but not giving him the sensation he craves.

"Don't do this, John-"

"Who's allowed to touch you?"

Sherlock trembled, "You! Only you... John, please, please, please..."

"That's right." John angled the handsome face towards himself and kissed him passionately as he started thrusting again, Sherlock moaning into his mouth. Long legs curled around his hips, keeping him close, feeling the head of Sherlock's pulsing erection rub against his abdomen. John changed the angle of his thrusts and Sherlock tore his mouth away, desperate and broken, as he clenched around John, so close...

John pressed his face into Sherlock's neck, groaning as he released within the younger man. Sherlock felt each hot spurt, his back arching further as he was filled. Hips rolled gently together as John held him tightly against his chest, whimpering at the feel of his skin against the minor burns on his chest. Once John caught his breath, he pulled himself up, looking at his captive still impaled on his cock. The younger man was still hard, holding it and waiting. Cupping his hands around Sherlock's hips, John smoothed his thumbs along his hipbones as he slowly pulled out, chuckling at the feel of Sherlock tightening around him to have him stay. He pulled free anyway and smiled lovingly at the other's whine.

He stood after untangling himself from the curl of Sherlock's legs and grabbed the key to unlock Sherlock from the cuffs. The younger man brought his hands down, rubbing his wrists as he watched John take his place between his legs. He buried his fingers in John's hair as he licked the juncture between hip and thigh. One large hand came up to circle his cock, the other to press his thigh up to expose himself for John's mouth.

"John..."

"Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of you."

He inhaled sharply at the first swipe of his tongue against his pucker, embarrassed at the needy mewl that left his mouth as he thrusted his cock through John's grasp. He'd never admit to enjoying this, the way John curled his tongue expertly, coaxing him to relax. He heard and felt John moan against him, blushing darkly at being so accepting of this, of letting John pleasure him this way, knowing he was going to cum just like this.

John looked up at him, dark eyes baring into him as he slowly stroked the flesh in his grasp. Gentle with his mouth, he left little sucks and kisses, tasting his seed within the other man with a groan. Messy; saliva coating the soft skin of Sherlock's ass as John ate him out. A few more strokes and John's tongue sliding into his loosen pucker had Sherlock gasping for breath as he came messily onto his stomach, fingers tensing in John's hair as he held him in place to ride out his orgasm.

Sherlock watched breathlessly as John crawled up his body, licking through the mess of cum before taking his mouth in a sloppy kiss. He laughed shortly, opening his mouth as John pushed semen into his mouth,tasting their mixed essence on his tongue. John was the one to end it, nibbling on his lower lip before pulling away. His hands smoothed down Sherlock's legs, pressing into the taut muscles of his thighs to knead any aches out.

Sherlock was the first to speak quietly, "You know I wouldn't." His eyes pleading for John to understand. He felt the older man scratch at the wax still on his stomach, the marks now an irritating pink on his skin. He gasped quietly when John shifted above him until their bodies pressed together, especially sensitive on his nipples that just about matched the exhausted red on his face.

"Wouldn't you?" John teased and quieted all of Sherlock's complaints with another kiss. Sherlock hummed into his mouth and finally wraps his arms around the older man, the hold just as possessive as all of John's actions earlier. He nipped at his lips and pulled back, "What have you learned."

Sherlock raised his head, squarely meeting John's intense stare, "You don't like it when I drink or flirt with others."

"That's right, I don't." John murmured and snorted at the playful glint dancing in Sherlock's eyes, "Not that it'll stop you, I guess."

Sherlock laughed, "Maybe, a little. I didn't mean to hurt you... I don't want to." Shy fingers crawled up and down John's back, the light touch making the older man shiver and Sherlock to smile.

John huffed quietly, "I know. You just want sex in my room." He sighed, feigning annoyance as he relaxed into Sherlock's body. He didn't miss the way Sherlock's blush darken, or the hitch in his breath at being found out. He rolled his eyes, "Sherlock, if I've ever met a person who flirts with danger more than you..."

"Shut up."

"There's my Sherlock." he nuzzled under his chin, breathing him in deeply as he finally let go of his temper. He knew sooner or later Sherlock's going to go at it again, finding ways to have John drag him back into his room, but for now the marks on his skin will be a reminder and it more than soothed John knowing Sherlock would bare them, love them even, as he watched long, thin fingers dance over his name delicately.


End file.
